


bittersweet

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Drinking, Found Family, Gen, Google translate greek, Male-Female Friendship, Mimir and Brok are there also, Some Swearing, deceased family member, deceased friend, exactly one f-bomb, greiving, no beta reader we die like men, some creative liberties with the canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: One solistice, Sindri remembers. (A fic about drinking, sharing memories, and different kinds of love.)
Relationships: Faye/Kratos (God of War), Sindri & Faye (God of War)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, GoW fandom, y'all are super nice, here's some more content.

When Brok suggested they have the usual solstice drinking session with Kratos and Atreus, Sindri hadn’t expected the Spartan to _agree_ to it. But, here he was, in their home, carefully nursing his own wineskin while sitting at the hearth.

 _Faye’s_ hearth, in Faye’s home. He’d never been there before. They had been friends, sure, but there were parts of her life she didn’t share. That was normal, he guessed, but it made learning these things _after_ her death feel…strange. Bittersweet.

“Why does it _smell_ like that?” Atreus made a face as he sniffed the mead horn Brok had passed him. “Is it supposed to?”

“Sure is,” Brok replied with a lazy grin. “Don’t you trust me?”

“You shouldn’t trust him,” Sindri said. He had hated Brok’s swill _before_ that run-in with the Vanir witch. “It’s vile.”

“Don’t listen to him. G’on. Decide for yourself.”

Atreus looked at the horn, then up to his father, as if asking permission. Kratos had his own horn of the “mead” (if you could call it that), and had been staring at it, face unreadable as ever. When he wasn’t talked out of it, Atreus took a sip.

In the boy’s favor, he did manage to swallow it down. But it looked like it was a struggle, and he practically _threw_ the horn back at Brok. “ _Ugh_.”

Brok laughed, taking the horn. “Think you’re a bit too young for that.”

“I’m _never_ gonna be old enough for that.”

“Leave the lad alone,” Mimir scolded from his perch on the bed. Sindri still wasn’t used to his appearance—just a _head_ , with the cut off bit all…scabbed over, _ugh_ —but he could at least tolerate it, so long as there was a decent distance between them. “You all right, little brother?”

“I’m okay.” Atreus shoved a mouthful of venison soup into his mouth, trying to chase away the taste.

Brok rolled his eyes. “So, what about you, big man? You going to criticize my brewing, too?”

Kratos didn’t respond verbally. He raised the mead horn to his lips and started drinking.

And drinking.

And _drinking_ , Odin’s eye, how was he _chugging it like that?_ Kratos didn’t lower the horn until it was completely drained. When he finally did, he looked taken aback. He even _coughed_ , once, but that was more than Sindri had expected. “What _is this?_ ” he asked, actually sounding shocked.

“That’s proprietary,” Brok said, sounding more smug than usual. “Might even be strong enough to knock _you_ on your ass.”

“Hmm.” To Sindri’s surprise, Kratos held out the horn for more. “We’ll see.”

 _Oh, this is going to be a fun night_. “So, uh, what did you do for Solstice?” Sindri asked, trying to distract himself from the absolute horrors of _watching Kratos chug that much drink_ and _the thought of Kratos drunk_.

“Make a fire. Tell stories.” Atreus immediately perked up at the thought. “Well, Mother told stories. She knew some good ones.”

That sounded like Faye. She’d always loved a good story. “Eh, I’m no good at stories,” Brok muttered dismissively. “You don’t want to hear me tell anything.”

“I can try!” Sindri said. He wasn’t sure if he was any _good_ , but he had more than a few up his sleeves. “Anything you want to hear about?”

“Uhm.” Atreus glanced at Kratos again. “How did you meet my mother?”

 _Oh_. They hadn’t discussed that, had they? “Well, that was…an interesting day.”

“He almost got skinned by an ogre,” Brok interjected.

“I thought you weren’t going to tell anything?” Brok rolled his eyes and took a long drain from his drink. “ _Anyway_. He’s not wrong. There was an ogre, and I could have done my vanishing trick, but he was smashing through the workshop and I wanted to save _some_ of our hard work…” He remembered that day vividly—grabbing armfuls of supplies and partially-finished projects, trying desperately to avoid the ogre’s swinging arms. “Brok was trying to distract it, but it _really_ wanted to eat me. Guess I looked like the better-tasting morsel.” Not smelling like every metal they’d ever worked with had backfired for once. “It had me cornered, and then out of nowhere came your mother. I had seen her before in the forest, but never up close, and never going up against an _ogre_. She was…impressive. I’d never seen anything like it.”

Atreus nodded and pulled his knees up to his chin. “Father said she fought beautifully.”

“That she did.” Sindri glanced Kratos’s way. He was staring into his drink again. “The ogre had the good sense to make a run for it. She could’ve gone after it, but she came back to make sure we were okay. Even stayed to help us set everything back up. We didn’t realize until later that she was Laufey. _The_ Laufey.”

“You’d heard of her?”

“Just in whispers. Word got around the Aesir didn’t like her very much.”

Mimir chuckled. “Oh, they didn’t. You should’ve heard Thor talk about her. It was like she’d spit in his face personally.”

“Good,” Kratos said. He sounded proud, but sad at the same time. Sindri was taken aback. He didn’t think he’d heard the man express… _any_ emotion outside of frustration or anger. Now twice in one evening? Maybe Brok’s brew was already getting to him. “And the axe? You said she came to you for it.”

“That was later. She came back after a few weeks. We figured it was the least we could do, all things considered…especially when she’d broken her old one. I know she was good with a bow, but it didn’t feel right to let her get into trouble without the extra protection.”

“Did she ever tell you how she broke it?” Atreus asked.

“She never said directly, but there were a lot fewer bandits in that part of the forest after whatever happened.” Sindri sipped his wine, suddenly feeling brave. “What about you, Kratos? How did you meet her?”

He was worried for a moment that he’d overstepped. Having Kratos’s gaze suddenly fix on him had that effect. But his gaze slid away, glancing to his son. Atreus was staring at him eagerly, pleading with his eyes but not asking out loud.

_He hasn’t heard this story, either._

“…I had crossed the staves,” Kratos said stiffly. “Into her part of the forest. I didn’t know I was trespassing. She made it _very_ clear, with that.” He tilted his chin towards the Leviathan axe hanging on the wall. “But she wasn’t trying to kill me. Only scare me.”

“How did you know?” Atreus asked.

“She was holding back in her swing. Fighting defensively, trying to push me towards the border. I wasn’t trying to hurt her, either, and we realized…we were no threat to each other.” His voice grew softer as he spoke, the fondness starting to show. “I had intended to leave, but she asked me if I needed any food. She was…kind when she had no reason to be.”

That also sounded like Faye. Sindri had only ever known her to be extraordinarily kind. “You’re lucky she didn’t take your head off,” Brok noted, his usual gruffness toned down, somewhat. “She didn’t have any reason to trust a god.”

“Did she know?” Atreus asked.

“She suspected. I told her later.” His guard went back up, making it clear that was a story they would _not_ be hearing. “Even when she suspected, I think it was obvious to her I’m not one of Odin’s kin. Her quarrel was not with me, god or not.” He took another long sip from his drink, this time without a grimace or cough. “Hmm. Enough from me. Mimir knows better stories.”

Knowing better stories had nothing to do with it. Everyone knew, especially Atreus. The disappointment was clear in his eyes, but he didn’t protest; only moved closer to his father and leaned against him, quietly supportive.

 _He really does have Faye’s eyes_. Sindri reminded himself to tell Atreus more about Faye later. The poor boy deserved to hear those stories.

Deserved to know how many people cared for his mother.

But it seemed like Kratos was in no position to talk about her, not now.

Of all the people to break the awkward, somber silence that followed, Sindri was not expecting it to be Brok. His brother belched noisily and turned to Mimir. “You got any dirt on those blowhards up in Asgard? And I mean _real_ dirt. _Proper_ sordid shit.”

Mimir snorted. “Well, I don’t know if I can say the _proper_ sordid shite in front of the boy… _but_ …”

That _but_ was the precursor to far, _far_ more gossip about the Aesir than Sindri had expected. Mimir ended up carrying the evening, letting the stories flow along with the alcohol, revealing as many secrets of the Aesir as he could get away with sharing, considering the young ears listening. Atreus seemed intent on staying up as long as possible, peppering Mimir with questions as the stories went on, but eventually his exhaustion won out. He fell asleep curled up at Kratos’s side. That left Mimir free to switch to the less savory stories.

“Do they know you know all of this?” Brok asked.

“Why else do you think Odin kept me trapped for over one hundred winters?” Mimir rolled his eyes. “He knows damn well. He’d hate that I’m telling you this.”

“ _Good_.” Brok offered Kratos some more of his brew; Kratos shook his head, leaving him to drain what was left in the barrel and start chugging it himself. “Fuck ‘em.”

Kratos hummed in agreement. He’d actually started _slouching_ the longer the night went on. Brok might not have been right about the brew _knocking him on his ass_ , but it was definitely having _some_ effect. Perhaps it was the alcohol that lead him to straighten up suddenly and start removing the shield stills trapped to his arm. “Hmm. Sindri.”

“Yes…?” Sindri’s pleasantly wine-tipsy feeling gave way to resigned dread. “If you’ve damaged it, I don’t think I’m in any shape to…”

Kratos shook his head. “Your work?” he asked, turning the shield over to show the brand on the other side. “If I’m not mistaken.”

He wasn’t mistaken; that was Sindri’s half of the brand. “She asked me to make it for someone…she didn’t say _who_ , just that it was someone important to her, for a special occasion.” He squinted, trying to guess. “Birthday…?”

Kratos shook his head. “Anniversary of when we met.” He held the shield carefully. “She didn’t tell you anything about me?”

Sindri had to pause to think about it. She had come to Sindri about the shield in a strange part of the relationship. He’d just parted ways with Brok and started throwing himself into work as a distraction, and she had been…well, in hindsight, probably spending more time with Kratos. Regardless of what, it meant that they spoke less, revealed less about what was going on in their lives. But there were a few things he remembered.

“She said there was someone now…and that he was private and didn’t like strangers much.” Kratos considered that comment, then shrugged in agreement. “She also said something about how you lost your old shield, which I never got an explanation for.”

Kratos huffed a laugh. “I smashed it over someone’s head. She started a fight, I helped her finish it.”

“By breaking your shield over someone’s head.” Kratos just shrugged again. “If you don’t mind my saying, either you are stronger than I realized or that was an absolute _shit_ shield.”

“It was shit.” Atreus stirred slightly at Kratos’s side; Kratos carefully rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The touch was enough to send the boy back to sleep. “Did you know about…?”

“Atreus? I saw her once when she was pregnant, once after he’d been born…I guess I didn’t realize it was him. He looked different as a baby. He was all…”

Was he allowed to say what he was thinking? It was the truth, but people could be sensitive about their children. “Fat?” Sindri said carefully. When the comment earned him a brief smile, he felt brave enough to finish. “And his hair was lighter. He was asleep, too. If I’d seen his eyes, maybe I would’ve recognized him sooner. That was…the last time I saw her, actually.”

He could still remember it clearly. She’d seemed so _happy_ as she carefully showed him the baby (never gave a name, now that he thought about it, just called him her _little darling_ ), all the love in the world in her eyes. Love and something more somber.

 _He couldn’t kill all of us_ , she’d said. _He couldn’t kill me and he won’t kill my boy._

But even with that somber reminder of how dangerous life would be for two of the last giants in Midgard…

“She was really happy,” Sindri said quietly. “She was. I’m glad that was my last memory of her.”

A pause followed. Sindri was so caught up in that final memory of one of his dearest friends that he didn’t notice the shift in that silence until…

“Sindri.” Kratos leaned forward, face fully serious. “Were you in love with my wife?”

“…wh-what…?”

Brok burst out laughing. And, to Sindri’s irritation and relief, Kratos smiled. A joke. He was making a _joke_. He really was drunk, wasn’t he? “Oh, _ha-ha_ , **_very_** funny,” Sindri said sourly. “For the record, _no_ , I was not in love with Faye. It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, you sure about that?” Brok said, the words nearly choked by his laughter. “You followed her around like a damn puppy.”

“She was my _friend._ What, you’ve never had someone like that?” He knew _Brok_ hadn’t, so he turned his attention to Kratos, hoping for some kind of validation. “Someone you cared about and knew you could trust? Not like…you were in _love_ , but…?”

Kratos’s smile faded, turning into something more thoughtful. “Hmm. Yes.”

And that was all.

He really was a man of many secrets, wasn’t he?

“… _okay_. Well, now that we’re done laughing at _my_ expense…is there more food? I’m _starving_.”

That was more or less the end of the evening. They ate, had some water, and curled up in their respective corners to sleep it off. Sindri could have gone home, but he was tired, and it was pleasantly warm in the home, and he felt…safe. Close to his friend again, even if she wasn’t there.

_I wish she were._

He woke up the next morning to the smell of something cooking and the sight of Atreus crouching by the fire, poking at something in a pot. Sindri couldn’t tell if it smelled good or made him nauseous. Mimir was sitting on a chair, offering advice. “…stick to the bottom of the pot if you’re not careful…”

“I’ve got it.” Atreus was watching the pot as intently as if he were watching a deer. He _really_ looked like his mother then. “Brok _really_ snores, huh?”

Sindri hadn’t noticed until then. He was more or less used to the sound, even after their separation. Sindri sat up slowly. He felt…a _little_ lightheaded, but not too bad. He’d had worse solstices. “Don’t tell him. He’ll deny it,” Sindri said. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the space. “Where’s your dad?”

“He went to get more water.” Atreus moved aside, giving Sindri space to sit down next to him by the fire. “He’ll be back soon. Did I miss anything?”

“Oh, not much. Your dad thinks he’s funny and Mimir has enough dirt on Odin to bury him for the next century.” Sindri checked the pot, confirming the meat was being cooked thoroughly. “He doesn’t…talk about your mother much, does he?”

Atreus hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s still hard for him. That’s how he grieves.”

 _That tracks_. “Still, it can’t be easy for you.”

Atreus didn’t say anything, but the way he kept staring into the pot said a lot. “Well, if you ever do want to talk about her…I have some good stories about her. She really was an amazing woman. And she loved you. I know that much.”

Atreus nodded, finally glancing Sindri’s way. “Thanks, Sindri,” he said quietly.

Sindri beamed. He would have started telling stories then, if Atreus wanted to hear them, but of _course_ Kratos chose that moment to come through the door. If he was feeling the effects of last night’s drinking, he didn’t show it, outside of a slight loss of balance when he stopped to kick Brok. “Wake up,” he grunted.

Brok choked slightly, his snoring cutting out as he woke up, then immediately starting up again as he went back to sleep. “If he doesn’t wake up, just throw him into a snow drift,” Sindri said dismissively. “That usually does the trick.” _And it’d serve him right for laughing at me._

Kratos grunted again, setting the water down and crouching beside Atreus. Sindri noticed how his body language changed, becoming less closed off as he was near his son. “Είσαι καλά?” he asked.

“Εγω ειμαι,” Atreus replied—same tongue, but more hesitantly spoken, like he hadn’t quite learned it yet. “Είσαι?”

Kratos didn’t immediately reply. “Hmm.” He glanced Sindri’s way. “Maybe you should try waking him.”

 _Fine, fine, I get it, don’t want me listening._ “I’ll see what I can do.” Sindri stood up carefully. “Just make sure that’s cooked all the way, okay?”

“I will,” Atreus promised.

Sindri tried not to eavesdrop, but he could just make out Kratos’s next words as he approached his sleeping brother. “Θα γίνω. Αλλά μου λείπει ...”

“…Και εγώ.”

Sindri might not have known what the words meant, but he could guess.

Since they were words said in confidence, though, he pretended not to hear, instead starting a fresh round of trying to kick Brok awake. “Get _up_. There’s food.”

Brok grunted and swatted at Sindri’s legs. “Knock it off…!”

“I’ll knock it off when you get up!”

 _Another morning with the Huldra Brothers_ , Sindri thought ruefully, giving Brok one last solid kick for good measure.

Breakfast was a more somber affair than the night before had been, and it was clear that the talk of Faye was still weighing on their hosts’ minds. But they did seem to be leaning on each other. That was something. And Sindri would be more than happy to share those memories of Faye with Atreus. Whenever the boy was ready.

He was sure it would do him some good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as screechthemighty if you ever want to scream at me about how badly Faye needs to be in God of War 5. Also, true story, I wrote this almost entirely because that scene of Kratos making fun of Sindri started living rent-free in my head and I had to flesh it out more.
> 
> ALMOST FORGOT but here's a translation of the convo between Kratos and Atreus (sorry it's google translate):  
> K: Are you okay?  
> A: I am. Are you?  
> K: I will be. But I miss...  
> A: ...Me too.


End file.
